


Puppets Without Strings

by Your_Worst_Nightmare



Series: The Great Game [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Psychopaths, Blow Jobs, Consulting Criminal, Dark Sherlock, Hand Jobs, M/M, Murder, Porn With Plot, Power Play, Psychopaths In Love, Revenge, Sheriarty - Freeform, Sherlock Joins Jim, Shower Sex, Sociopathic Sherlock, Terrorism, jimlock, setting an example
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-08
Updated: 2015-03-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 17:21:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2740718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Your_Worst_Nightmare/pseuds/Your_Worst_Nightmare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has finally revealed to John what really happened the day he faked his death and John is more than devastated. But Sherlock has other things to worry about- in Moriarty's lengthy absence his web seems to have started to untangle themselves, and now the two consultants are working together, they must both hatch a plan to regain control of the strings of Jim's rogue puppets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Safe House

**Author's Note:**

> Sherlock and Moriarty are now working together after realising they cannot live without each other. Their first big challenge together is to track down Jim's rogue men and deal with them. It starts off simple until Sebastian Moran arrives back on the scene...
> 
> A continuation of The Great Game. Definitely helps to read the first part, though not completely necessary, but I definitely recommend it! :P

The pair hadn’t moved in what seemed like an eternity, still reeling from their encounter with John. Finally Moriarty pulled away from their embrace and looked Sherlock in the eyes.

“Let’s get out of here.”

Sherlock was so shattered he simply nodded and allowed himself to get dragged away by the criminal. They left the flat and walked side-by-side, hands in their pockets and heads turned down against the cold night air. They had been walking for almost 10 minutes before Sherlock realized something.

“Jim, why are we walking? You usually have a car on hand?” he asked curiously, looking behind him the whole time, paranoid that they were being followed by his men.

“Sebastian left me for dead Sherlock and he was the most loyal out of them all, you think my men would just stick around after two years of absence?” Jim replied frustrated. 

“Come on, your James Moriarty! No one would dare betray you!”

“Well that’s what I thought my dear, but it turns out letting everyone believe you’re dead for that long has its repercussions. As you know of course.”

Before Sherlock could answer, Jim pushed him down an alleyway that was so dark they could barely see, but just as Sherlock was about to question their whereabouts Jim brandished a key at him.

“Had this place since I left university, its been my last resort through the years. Its so secret, not even Sebastian knows about it,” Jim explained as he gestured towards what appeared to be an ordinary brick wall. Sherlock frowned but as he stepped closer, he realized that the bricks had been painted on in certain places. In front of him, the door materialized. Where the bricks of the wall ended, there had been ones painted on the door so as a passerby, you would have no clue there was even a door there. Even the lock had been painted to match the bricks. Sherlock whistled in appreciation. Jim really did think of everything when it came to security. Moriarty unlocked the door and Sherlock followed him inside. The lights blinked rapidly and brightly as Jim turned them on, and revealed a huge open-plan living space. On their floor stood a kitchen-diner that lead into a huge book-filled lounge. Between the bookshelves hung a gigantic television and numerous paintings by famous artists. To the left the stairs rose up to a bedroom that had a balcony looking over the ground floor, and Sherlock spied in the corner what looked like an en-suite bathroom. Moriarty giggled a little at Sherlock’s shocked expression.

“Approve my dear detective?” 

“Jim, this place is incredible!”

“I know darling I know. And I had it all to myself until you came along and ruined everything,” he smirked sarcastically. Sherlock raised his eyebrows in mock-dismay, but couldn’t keep it for very long before they both burst out laughing. The snickering quickly stopped however when Jim turned to face Sherlock and their eyes met. Instantly that electricity that had befallen them at Baker Street returned and they both found their breathing getting heavier. Sherlock started to lean in closer, not taking his eyes off the criminal’s. Abruptly Jim lunged at Sherlock and pinned him to the wall, all humour gone and replaced with raw desire. They stood for a second with Moriarty’s hands pinning Sherlock’s to the wall and their chests rising and falling rapidly, staring at each other lustfully. Then for the first time in two years, Sherlock kissed Jim.

It was a deep, longing kiss; Sherlock’s tongue finding it’s way into Moriarty’s mouth whilst he bit down on the detective’s lip seductively. Minutes went by until they finally pulled away for breath, panting like they had each run a marathon. 

“God you excite me,” Sherlock exhaled breathily, nipping at Jim’s earlobe and pulling a low moan from the criminal.

“Mmmm, the feeling’s mutual darling,” Moriarty groaned, freeing Sherlock’s arms so their hands could explore each other’s bodies. Sherlock reached round to Moriarty’s hips and pulled him in closer, creating friction between their crotches. His trousers already felt tight around him, and from the bulge that pressed up against him, he could tell Jim’s did too. They slowly, achingly rubbed against each other, Moriarty’s hips grinding into Sherlock’s, this time making the detective moan. He could feel the tension low in his stomach as his cock started to throb deliciously with want. He wanted the criminal; he needed him. He could feel Jim getting harder and harder, the pressure between their cocks building. Finally he could take no more. 

“Fuckk, Jim, please…”

Moriarty smiled into the kiss. He loved it when Sherlock begged him, but he wasn’t sure he could last this torture much longer either. It had been too long. He broke away from the kiss, their noses pressed together and their lips still almost touching.

“Upstairs, now,” he breathed quietly, lust very clear in his tone.


	2. Welcome To The Dark Side Mr. Holmes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before they make any plans, they must first deal with two year's worth of unsatisfied sexual tension.

Moriarty shoved Sherlock roughly against the bedroom wall as they kissed passionately. Sherlock's hands slid up Jim's arms in an effort to take his still-wet shirt off but the wince Moriarty gave made him stop immediately. The criminal noticed Sherlock's hesitation and rested a finger on his lips before he could protest.

"I'm fine Sherlock, just a bit sore still," he goaded. This was little comfort to the detective.

"Jim you're still bleeding," Sherlock objected, carefully peeling off the shirt to reveal cuts that had been so deep John had had to stitch them up.

“Battle scars my dear detective. Everybody feels pain Sherlock. Doesn’t mean you have to fear it. Besides, right now, my mind is a little preoccupied…” He slid his hand down into Sherlock’s pants and squeezed provocatively. Sherlock couldn’t help but groan at the contact, closing his eyes as they rolled up into his head. God he had missed this. The pair returned to their kissing, Sherlock’s hands returning to caressing Jim’s body, though he was careful to avoid any cuts or bruises. Moriarty seemed to notice this and sighed as he pulled away.

“Would it help if I washed the blood off?” he smirked almost patronizingly. Sherlock rolled his eyes but Moriarty took his silence as confirmation. 

“Fine, I’ll wash it off, but you’re coming with me,” he winked, and before Sherlock could reply, Jim grabbed Sherlock’s wrist and pulled him into the en-suite. 

Moriarty slammed the door shut and after turning the shower on, pinned Sherlock against it. Kissing him roughly, he quickly undressed the detective, barely breaking away from his lips. Sherlock reciprocated and soon they were both standing in just their boxers. By now, the shower was so hot it was starting to make the room steamy. Moriarty noticed drops of water slide down Sherlock’s neck from the steam and slowly licked up his neck to catch them. He took Sherlock’s aroused moan as premise to continue. The criminal slowly started sucking bruises into Sherlock’s neck, kissing his way down to his collarbone then to his nipple, where he sucked another bruise. Sherlock bucked his hips into Moriarty’s; desperate for some friction against his cock, which was so hard he could feel it throbbing against his waistband. Jim noticed it seemed, as seconds later his hand had slipped into his boxers and started rubbing up and down against his length. Sherlock leaned into the touch, needing more. The detective was panting hard now, as Jim’s thumb rubbed against the tip with more enthusiasm, causing precum to slowly drip down his cock.

“Fuck, Jim, please…” Sherlock moaned, his head falling against the door as he panted achingly. Moriarty stared at him lustfully for a second before nodding. He removed his hand teasingly slowly, rubbing hard against Sherlock’s cock as he did, and led Sherlock into the shower. The room was now so full of steam it almost looked opaque. Beads of sweat ran down both their necks as they stepped under the stream of hot water. They had forgotten to take their boxer’s off Sherlock quickly noticed, but he couldn’t say that was a bad thing. Moriarty’s boxers were now soaked and clung to him deliciously, perfectly outlining his huge, very hard cock. Sherlock felt his own twitch at the sight; he needed it in his hands. Without a word, Sherlock backed Moriarty against the wall of the shower, staring into his eyes, lustful and unblinking as he slid his fingers up and down Moriarty’s cock. Jim twitched at the contact, so turned on he could already feel his balls tightening. He bucked into the touch impatiently, wanting more friction. From the moans he was making, Sherlock was sure he wouldn’t last long, but more than anything he wanted to see him cum.   
Without hesitation, Sherlock sunk to his knees, slipping Jim’s boxers off as he went. Before Moriarty could react, Sherlock took his entire length into his mouth and sucked hard. The criminal let out a loud moan at the sudden onslaught and let his head fall back against the wall, panting heavily. He slid his fingers through Sherlock’s hair and tugged as the detective sucked up and down, faster and faster. Before long, Jim had lost complete self-control and was grinding his hips in rhythm with Sherlock’s mouth, desperate for release. 

“Sherlock, I’m close, so close,” Moriarty panted, his grip getting tighter as his cock started to throb pleasurably in Sherlock’s mouth. The detective wanted to feel him cum desperately and picked up the pace, flicking his tongue along his cock as he did. Seconds later, Moriarty slammed his cock roughly into Sherlock’s mouth as he came with a lurid moan, his grip painfully tight in Sherlock’s hair as the detective swallowed around him. Jim shuddered at the feeling, reveling in the high. Sherlock got back on his feet and Moriarty pulled him in for a deep kiss, still panting heavily. Sherlock rubbed his cock against Jim’s making the man shudder and twitch at the feeling against his sensitive length.

“Ready for more? Or do you need a rest?” Sherlock enticed, almost mockingly. Moriarty bit his lip hard in response making the detective moan. 

“God yes,” he breathed against Sherlock’s lips before kissing him hard. Sherlock groaned into the kiss, pulling Jim in so they were flush against each other and feeling the water cascade around them. The friction between them was making Moriarty almost convulse and it wasn’t long before his cock was rock hard. He kissed Sherlock one more time before he twisted him round and pushed him against the wall, his fingers caressing between his legs. His other hand started pumping Sherlock’s cock and he shuddered with arousal as Moriarty slipped a finger inside him, shortly followed by another two. The water from the shower made it a lot easier and it wasn’t long before Sherlock was accustomed and moaning wantonly. 

“James, please, God it’s been so long, I need you inside me,” Sherlock almost whined, keening into the now pounding fingers of his once mortal enemy. 

“Fuck I love it when you beg,” Moriarty panted against Sherlock’s shoulder, biting down teasingly. “Again. Beg me again.”

“Fuck me James, I need you! God I want to feel you cum inside me!” 

That was all it took for Jim to loose control. Swiftly he removed his fingers and pounded into Sherlock, still rubbing his cock frantically. The detective cried out in pleasure as Moriarty thrust manically into him, hitting his prostate every time. It wasn’t long before they were both on the edge again. Jim panted against Sherlock desperate for release once more. 

“Cum for me Sherlock. I want to feel you cum,” Moriarty whispered hotly in his ear, pumping his hand faster and harder. Seconds later Sherlock came with a loud groan, clenching down on Jim’s cock and sending him over the edge as well. Jim could feel Sherlock’s cock throb as he came and it made him shudder inside him. Slowly he pulled out and they both slid down into each other’s arms on the floor of the shower. They lay there panting for a while, enjoying the water stream down their bodies and letting the steam engulf them. Eventually, Moriarty spoke.

“Right, now we’ve got two years worth of pent up sexual tension out the way, we should probably focus on how we’re going to stay alive for the foreseeable future hm?” he jested, making Sherlock chuckle.

“Yes, that’s probably a good idea,” he replied, leaning in to kiss him.

Moriarty broke away and stared at him darkly. “Welcome to the dark side Mr. Holmes.”


	3. Our Mission Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock and Moriarty set off on their mission to find the first disloyal employee.

When Sherlock woke early that morning, he found that Moriarty was already gone from the bed. Curiously he rubbed his eyes and gingerly got up, still sore from the night before. He looked over the banister onto the room below and spied Jim in the kitchen resting his head on the counter. Sherlock frowned as he made his way down the stairs and over to the criminal, where he wrapped his arms around the man’s waist and pulled him up into an embrace. Moriarty leaned his head back on Sherlock’s shoulder and sighed heavily.

“What’s wrong?” Sherlock inquired, the frown not yet leaving his face. The man sighed again before answering.

“It’s nothing I can’t handle, my dear.”

Before Sherlock could interrogate some more, Moriarty unwrapped himself from him and limped over to the sofa where he sat down heavily next to a steaming pot of tea. The detective followed him cautiously, gazing at him warily whilst he poured them both teas. The man didn’t seem to be in a particularly divulging mood so he thought he would let it go, just for the time being. Instead he clapped his hands together and tried to change the subject onto something lighter.

“So, what are your plans for world domination then?” he mocked, taking a sip of tea and immediately regretting it when the liquid scolded his lips. Jim chuckled at this as he made a point of blowing on his drink. Sherlock relaxed as he saw Moriarty smile. Having a bad-tempered criminal mastermind in a confined space was never a good thing. 

“Well,” Jim replied, getting up and walking over to his desk. “I have a few ideas.” He opened a filing cabinet and searched through the contents until he found the files he needed. 

“These are the people we need to find,” he continued, returning to sit by Sherlock’s side and ruffling through the pages. “We’ll start with the main, higher profile clients, then maybe a few will return when they see the order being restored. Dead or not, no one wants to be on my bad side after all.”

Sherlock nodded in agreement, taking the papers from Jim and flicking through them himself. One name seemed to jump off the page at him.

“Christian Weaver, he was one of your clients?” Sherlock frowned again, studying the man’s picture. Weaver was an incredibly high-profile terrorist, whom Sherlock had only recently apprehended before the man could blow up an entire estate. Unfortunately he had escaped custody, but there was no question of who it was who had helped him now. “So you’re the one that rescued him from prison.”

“Rescued is a strong word my dear detective. He was useful to me. I was simply protecting my assets so to speak.”

“Considering his influence over so many terrorists, I assume he will be one of the one’s we will go after first?” 

Moriarty nodded silently, clearly plotting in his mind. Sherlock couldn’t take the silence, let alone the current changeable mood Moriarty was in, so he clapped his hands and sprung to his feet.

“Come along then! Let’s go get your empire back.”

“You want to go now? As in, right now?” Jim asked, both surprised and amused at Sherlock’s enthusiasm. 

“Yes Jim, I can’t stand it when you’re brooding like this. Anyway, I’ve been in the shadows for two years. I need to get outside and cure my boredom!”

“Yes, I suppose the prospect of either re-igniting my web or dying painfully sounds ridiculously unboring. Fine, let’s go. With any luck this idiot should be easy to find. He never was great at staying undercover without my help.”

Moriarty got up tentatively; his shoulder was obviously still really painful though he was trying his absolute hardest not to show it. Sherlock knew now probably was not the best time to be setting their plans in action, given Jim’s current condition, but he knew getting him back out there would likely help his currently bad temperament. He followed the criminal upstairs to the bedroom where they both got dressed, Sherlock having to help Moriarty with his shirt and jacket, much to the criminal’s distaste. By the front door, Jim put his blackout Raybans on, took a deep breath in, and stepped out into the winter air. The man who left the building was not the same as the man that dwelled inside. This man oozed power and authority, and even Sherlock felt a little bit threatened in his presence. Apart from a cut across his neck, he left no evidence that he was hurt or in pain at all. Sherlock had always been quick to point out that he was a sociopath not a psychopath like Jim, but right now, he envied the man his ability to not feel pain. They headed out into the bright glare of the sun and hailed a taxi. The whole journey they remained silent. Sherlock could see Moriarty was scheming and knew better than to interrupt him. Apart from anything he knew how annoying it was when people interrupted him. Instead he stared out the window at the world he had appeared to have forsaken and found his thoughts slipping to John.   
The guilt he felt inside for betraying him once, let alone twice was indescribable. He knew Jim would not understand. How could he? He’s a psychopath. It was something he would have to deal with on his own then. Even though this had been his own choice, he still felt tears well up behind his eyes at what he had done. He shook his head, angry with himself for allowing these emotions to surface. He tried to push John out of his mind by focusing on the task at hand and finally breaking Jim out of his reverie. 

“So, where are we headed?”

“I thought we’d try his usual spot first. He has a safe house in Waterloo, which is usually his first port of call. Of course I keep tabs on all my employees and clients, for securities sake, so I know his other hideouts, but this one should be the most likely,” Moriarty replied, very business like though he seemed scattered. Sherlock knew it was usually Moran who would accompany Moriarty on ventures like these, so an idiot could tell that’s where his mind really was. Sherlock felt an odd pang of jealousy suddenly for the first time in his life and he wasn’t quite sure why. Damn emotions. Again he found himself wishing he could be more like Jim. 

After another 5 minutes they arrived outside a block of derelict-looking flats. They walked up to the front door, and without notice, Moriarty lifted his leg in the air and kicked the door down with one blow.


End file.
